Blood Moon
by murphycat
Summary: After their return to Dodge, Matt & Kitty are busy running their farm and building a life together. Evil lies dormant in every community and it is getting closer and closer to home.
1. Chapter 1

Gunsmoke: Blood Moon

Chapter 1

The woman thought it was the raw, piercing cold in the house that woke her up. Her numb nose and feet told her that either the fire was out or well on the way. Only the knowledge that she would freeze to death finally made Deborah Hensley crawl out from beneath her tattered quilts and hurry across the bitterly cold floor to put more wood in the stove. She didn't need to waste the kerosene to light the lamp. The house was only one room, and the moon was nearly full anyhow.

She wished for the thousandth time that she had enough money to move out west or down south where she'd heard that the winters weren't so bitter. That dream was never going to happen unless God put a man with moneybags on her doorstep or some unknown relative left her a fortune. It was only due to her egg money made during the warm months that she had enough to buy necessities from Mr. Jonas, at the general store. Her garden and hens produced well in the summer, and that kept her going through the winter, too. Her husband, Frank had died two years ago, and it had been rough without him. Dang rough with him, too. He was a big man and ate his fill. At least she'd had a chance to gain a little weight since he'd passed, plus she didn't have to put up with his unwashed body and his stink around the place. Even her old dog had died; she didn't like having to feed him either. He had been company though, and that she did miss.

Bending down, she opened the stove door and shoved the broken pieces of wood inside. She used one stick to poke the coals and watched little red embers puff up like tiny stars. Deborah grabbed her rocker by its broken right arm, pulled it close to the open door to make sure that the wood caught, while she waited for a tiny morsel of heat. Within minutes, the flames were licking around the wood, and she'd dozed off in her chair.

Deborah jarred awake. It wasn't the cold that roused her this time. She reached over and shut the cast iron door of the stove and rose, standing very still, waiting. She heard the sound of snow crunch under footsteps on her porch. Fear made a knot in her stomach, and she couldn't move. Although she was fairly close to the road to Dodge City, she felt isolated and very alone at night.

Listening intently, she heard nothing else and wondered if maybe the sounds she'd heard had been caused by the wind lifting the loose porch boards up and down, for it had been blowing powerfully lately. She crept to the door to make sure that she'd dropped the wooden bar across it. She released a sigh of relief when she found it securely fastened. Feeling safer, she went to the window to peep out through the curtains.

Deborah barely had time to sense movement in the corner of her eye before something reached swiftly through the window, shattering the glass. Shrieking from fright and pain, she tumbled backwards onto the rough wood floor, instinctively grabbing her injured shoulder. She felt the end of a shard of glass stuck deep into her shoulder and felt warm blood on her cold fingers.

In spite of the pain, she scrambled backwards to where Frank's old .20 gauge was hidden under the bed. She tried to hold the gun with both arms, but the glass stuck into her shoulder prevented her from gripping it. She was going to have to pull it out in order to hold the big gun.

Using the bottom of her dressing gown as a cover for her hand, she tentatively reached up, felt the end, and yanked it out as fast as she could. She thought she was going to blackout from agony. Blood poured hotly through her fingers as she tried to put pressure on it to ease the pain. Unable to remove her hand, Deborah wasn't any better off with the glass out, in fact, she had only made things worse, she thought. Using her one good arm, she tried holding the shotgun, but it was heavy. Her aim was unsteady as she tried to point it towards the broken window where threadbare muslin curtains twisted in the icy wind. The opening allowed frigid air inside and sucked her precious, meager heat back out.

The temperature was dropping in the house. She felt weak and tired, but that didn't keep her heart from beating frantically against her chest like a bird flying into a glass window, trying desperately to escape. She felt safer now that she had the gun beside her, until she remembered with dawning horror that it wasn't loaded. Shells had been on her list of supplies for her next trip into Dodge. Only three shells lay in a wooden box on the shelf above her bed.

Deborah tried to stand, but her legs were too weak. She pushed herself up the wall as quickly and quietly as she could. She felt for the box with her good arm, keeping her eyes on the window and door and was forced to rest the weapon on the floor, barrel down. Her fingers finally closed around a shell. Sliding back down, she awkwardly broke open the shotgun, inserted it, and snapped it shut.

Maybe if she could stay where she was until daylight came then she'd be all right. There were only two windows on the front of the house, and she could watch those easily enough. The wound in her arm was agonizing, and she could feel the blood running down her arm. Deborah didn't have the courage to get up and grab a dish towel to wrap around it. The pain was bearable, if she lived til morning; maybe it wasn't as bad as it felt.

She didn't know how much time had passed. It was freezing inside, and she caught herself before she dozed off. Maybe whoever it was had just gone away, she thought. Maybe it was someone who came to the wrong house. Her heart had slowed to an almost regular rhythm, when she again heard movement on the porch. The door started to groan and crack, but it stubbornly refused to give because the cross beam kept it secured. She fired in blind fear at the door in the darkness, and pellets flew across the room.

Now she needed another shell! Why hadn't she just taken all three shells at once? She cursed herself. Pushing herself back up the wall, Deborah managed to get both shells this time. Drowsiness and exhaustion caused by blood loss and cold made her weak and she fell hard on her ass, her back against the wall.

A faint scratching noise against the outside of her house got her attention, like someone dragging a branch along a fence. She struggled to listen and determine its location outside. Suddenly there was a massive thwack against the side of the house. It reverberated through the wall close to where she sat. She screamed and crawled backwards across the room. Heavy blows of an axe fell quickly and ferociously.

Deborah had dropped the shotgun shells in her panic, and they'd scattered, rolling away in the dark.

The old thin walls couldn't hold up under the formidable blows. Chunks and splinters of wood flew out from the ever-widening opening. Deborah was paralyzed by fear as the furious and violent hewing continued. All she could see was a dark shadow swinging an axe, backlit by the moonlight.

When the thuds and thwacks finally stopped, she didn't realize if for a few seconds because the blood was pounding in her ears. Was he going away? No. The woman saw something obscure the opening outside. It was now large enough for him to get inside.

"No! No! Get away from meeeee!" Deborah Hensley's shrill, terrible screams echoed across the wind-swept indifferent prairie.


	2. Blood Moon 2

Blood Moon 2

He trod softly through the house in his sock feet. The wooden floor was smooth and sturdy, so it made few creaks as the man travelled warily from window to window, then paused, and stared outside. The wind howled as it had for three days. Unexpected high pitched, eerie whistling wraith like sounds still managed to find ways through tiny, invisible cracks around windows. The snow reflected the bright glow from the moon that seemed suspended right above him on the open prairie. That kind of bright light always gave him comfort. If anything was out there, it would easier to spot.

The horses were snug and safe from predators in stalls, in the barn, so the corral near the barn was empty. Without perceiving any discernable threat nor seeing anything that appeared out of place, the big man inhaled deeply and unconsciously relaxed his shoulders, which he had instinctively pulled up in a defensive posture. He turned from the windows and could make out the outlines of a large rock fireplace and wide hearth with artfully curved rocking chairs nearby, all thanks to that waxing moon outside. Walking over to the fireplace, he stacked logs on the fire and then went to shove a couple of smaller ones in the large cook stove to keep the embers going until morning.

He was grateful to have a warm place on such a bitterly cold night, and he paused to appreciate it. Too many nights spent alone on the prairie or in a cold, stone US Marshal's Office, or with prisoners, helped hone that gratitude. Pulling one of the oak rockers closer to the fire, he took a seat and listened to the soothing sounds of the cracking and popping of the wood. The wind still gusted and roared like a beast around the house, but it was tight, built with quality workmanship, to protect the family inside. He still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that possessed him. An unerring prescient sense of impending trouble had saved his life more than once, yet he could find no tangible reason for his edginess.

The Dillon ranch, _Shooting Star or The Double S_, had been established for almost two years. Their home was comfortable, accomplished with Kitty's loving, knowing touch. The fields produced fine crops of corn, wheat, and hay. Their herd of Herefords had been chosen from the best breeding stock. Their prize bull, Twister, had been purchased from one of the largest and most prestigious ranches in Kansas, his sire shipped from England. After the great blizzard of 1886, some farsighted ranchers had decided to move from the famed Texas Longhorn cattle to other breeds. Allowing herds to roam was now a thing of the past, as well, also a side effect of the great blizzard. So many cattle had died far from home that it was too big a risk to the herds and financially for the owners to allow them too far from home, so fences were now common. No longer were there heavy streams of big herds, and free grazing was limited. Local ranchers had replaced a big chunk of the need for Texas cattle.

The Dillon's were more than lucky; they were smart. Nothing happened by chance if they could avoid it. They'd both endured too much heartache and loss from lack of foresight. Matt discussed and studied new breeds of cattle, as well as other livestock, before investing. Kitty's attention to detail, through reading and vast contacts, along with her meticulous bookkeeping, contributed greatly to their choices and success thus far.

Matt and Kitty Dillon were not youngsters anymore and couldn't risk big losses in their first years. There might not be enough time for course corrections.

One thing that his missus insisted on was Matt's hiring of dependable help around the ranch. She wanted her husband around-a long long time. He acknowledged her concern, and, though it dinged his pride some, he knew she was right. He couldn't manage it all alone, nor did he want to. Kitty deserved to have him home now, and he wanted to be there with her as much as possible. He'd wasted too much time already. So far, his worries about old enemies coming back to haunt him or his family were wasted.

They'd hired Festus Hagen as their ranch foreman, and he had a small house of his own. It was away from the main house, but close enough to the bunk house to keep order. The bunk house was home to three other men at the moment, but if fortune kept smiling on them that would have to change.

With Lena gone back to New Orleans now, the house seemed much emptier. Their daughter would finish up her studies this coming summer, and it was their hope that she would make a permanent home in Kansas, with them, instead of choosing to stay in Louisiana.

"Matt."

His wife's concerned voice swiftly pulled him from his musing.

"Is something wrong," she asked. "I woke, and you were gone." Kitty Russell Dillon, wrapped in a blue robe, sat down on the hearth near him. Her long hair was pulled in a braid over her left shoulder, and the firelight enhanced the red color.

"No, Kitty. I'm just woolgathering. Just an old man's habits, I reckon." His gray hair was tousled, and, of course, he was in his night clothes.

"Are you worried about Lena?" She placed her hand on his knee.

Her husband placed his large hand over hers and squeezed. "No, honey, no." He released another deep breath, and said, "It's just…. I'm allowed to worry about my daughter traveling alone, all the way from Kansas to New Orleans, aren't I? After all, you've certainly had your share of incidents while travelling," Matt said, only half teasing. It had been two days since their daughter had left Kansas to New Orleans. Her Christmas visit had been too short.

"I can't argue with that, now can I," she answered ruefully. "She'll be fine. You know good and well that Lena can handle herself pretty darn well. She said she'd wire us as soon as she arrived."

"Come here," he said, pulling her to him. She settled into his warm lap and leaned her head against his shoulder. The firelight danced and twisted, reflecting across their faces.

"Are you worried?" He asked her, wrapping his arm around waist tighter.

"What do you think, Cowboy?"

"Well, there's the pot calling the kettle black." Rising to his feet, Matt carried Kitty back to their bedroom. Once settled in bed, she pressed her check into Matt's chest and felt the worn softness of his undershirt and the warmth underneath. "I got cold when you were up," she said softly. "I missed you."

He grinned in the darkness. "You're only using me to keep your feet warm, huh," he said.

She kissed him firmly on the cheek and murmured, "I also have other uses for you."

"Such as?"

Kitty kissed him on the cheek. On the neck. Rubbed her hand across his wide chest.

Turning on his side, he buried his face in the fresh scent of her hair, and the soft, supple curves of her warm body forced other worries to the back of his mind. Matt sought and found her lips, kissing her tenderly, while his fingers untied the ribbon holding the top of her gown together. Kitty smiled in the darkness and ran her fingers through his thick wavy hair, allowing her nails to lightly scratch his scalp and then his neck. When he paused to take a breath, she undid her nightgown and dropped it to the floor. Her husband was undressing when she turned back to him. They were still strongly attracted to each other physically, and it took only seconds for sparks to flare to a blaze.

Kitty ran her hands over his body, touching and remembering almost every scar or indentation. Many of which, she'd witnessed when inflicted. He stroked her soft skin, allowing his fingers to trail lightly over her body. When her heaving breathing turned to gasps and moans, he rose above her.

Matt shifted his long body over hers and gently nudged her legs apart. She welcomed him, more than ready. Kitty reveled in knowing that right now, he was hers alone, and the whole wide world was locked outside, away from their world.

She began moving in rhythm with him, first slow and deep. Matt kissed her on the lips, on her neck, and nibbled adown across her breasts, his hands gently tangled in her hair.

The sounds of their heavy breathing and moans mixed with words filled the room. Their bed became an orchestra playing a timeworn tune that they knew well. The rhythm became faster and more frenzied. Kitty loudly cried out his name, and her body tightened around him, her hands clutching his arms. Matt thrust only twice more and suddenly he was only aware of a rushing, blindingly intense pleasure in his groin.

Falling onto his back, he murmured her name. Her answer was to snuggle up next to him, satisfied, and curl her long slim leg over his. His wife's even breathing settled him as felt his own tension melt away. His fears cast aside for the night, he lay and savored the scent of his wife, their lovemaking, and enjoyed the contentment that he'd denied himself most of his life. In no time at all, he fell asleep.

**************************************Gunsmoke*******************.

The same night that Matt found himself prowling from window to window in his home, Festus also found he couldn't sleep. An uneasiness came over him that made him want to put his boots on and go outside, to reassure himself that nothing was there.

"P'shaw," he finally muttered to himself. "Festus, you're gettin' old." Peering out the window one more time, he climbed back into his warm bed and tried to put his restlessness aside.


	3. Chapter 3

Blood Moon 3

**All errors are mine. Just read through them and pretend it's perfect. :) I don't have a beta. :(

Kitty opened her eyes to piercingly bright sunlight that reflected off the snow and streamed through her bedroom windows. She immediately felt Matt's absence. Snatching up her robe, she hurried to the kitchen and saw that Matt had already fixed his own breakfast and gone. He had left her a note in quick, scratchy handwriting, leaning against the salt.

_You looked so peaceful that I just couldn't wake you. See you around noon. – M_

She couldn't stop the smile that lit her face. Some days, Kitty couldn't believe how different everything was now. For most of her life, the mere idea of being up this early would cause her to curl into a ball. Now, she was a wife and mother—and rancher. Her heart and life were full of joy that she thought would never be hers.

Tucking Matt's note into her pocket, she set about fixing her own breakfast. She had plenty to do today; she'd been planning to go to Dodge for a few necessary things and maybe stop in to see Hannah. Since she'd completely sold her interest in _The Long Branch_, she wasn't able to catch up on news and other women's company. She was also worried about the fall off in Hannah's business. Kitty knew she'd gotten out just in time, but it hadn't been a calculated move on her part. When she'd gotten married, she had all she needed and was tired of it and didn't need the aggravation. Although she truly believed that it wouldn't have mattered to Matt if she'd kept her share, she wanted to show him that she was all into this new life that they were building together.

When she did tell him that she'd sold all of the saloon to Hannah, he'd felt a burden lift that he hadn't confessed. No more would she be dealing with drunks; no more would he worry and wonder who was going to saunter in and recognize her, a retired marshal's wife, and give her grief. Matt hadn't told her, but, at least here in their home, he felt she'd be safer. He damn sure owed her that and a hellava lot more.

*********************************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX******************************.

"And so, I told her, Matthew, that she was jest wastin' her time, iff'n she wuz want'n me to court her. Phish! I am too set in my ways to have to deal with no woman. I mean exceptin' for Miss Kitty or Lena, o' course."

"Of course." Laughter rumbled up from Matt's chest. "I told you that if you kept on accepting free meals what was goin' happen," he said. "I have heard of men being led around by things other than the heads on their shoulders, but never by their stomachs. It's not like you don't get fed or have plenty to eat."

The two old friends had been riding the fence line for going on two hours. The entire time Matt had listened to Festus' rationalizing why his latest conquest should have known he was not the 'settlin' down kind of man.'

"You don't understand, Matthew! This woman has the cookin' skills of a witch, I'm a tellin' you. She can whup up the most delectable dishes. Thangs that I never even heared of, and stuff why I'd a' never thought about eatin'. I don't care, though, how many free meals that a man eats—"

Matt interrupted his friend. "Look at that," he told him, gesturing down toward the bottom of the field, near the creek. Something lay unnaturally still, alone, and away from the herd. He nudged Buck and trotted down, his fears confirmed.

Climbing down from his horse, he knelt down by a dead calf. Festus soon appeared beside him.

"If I didn't know better, Matthew, I'd have to say a mountain lion or somethin' killed this calf. Some critter has just plum tore the innards out of it."

"I see it, Festus. Could be a wolf, I guess. I don't see any scratch marks although it's torn up pretty good. It would be pretty unusual to have a big cat this far from the mountains. No cover for it. Most of the time a cat would leave scat, too. How long do you think it's been dead?"

Festus was already scouting for sign, answered, "Hard to tell with it bein' as cold as it's been. I'd say a week, could be more."

"Yea, I agree. Let's split up, go up and down the creek on the off chance we do see something. If you run into any of the boys, tell them to keep an eye out for tracks or any other signs. And send one of them down here to take care of this. We're lucky we haven't had coyotes."

Without waiting for Festus' answer, Matt rode off, down the creek, his eyes scanning all around him.

***********************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX******************.

Kitty was sitting in the old rocker by the fireplace that she'd shipped all the way from New Orleans, sentimental value, she had told her husband when he asked why she didn't buy a new one. This one had been the one she'd used when Lena was a baby.

She was deep in an animated conversation with Bess Roniger when Matt rode back for dinner. He could hear the laughter before he walked onto the porch. He kicked the snow off his boots and used his hat to dust off his pants before he entered the house.

"Well, this is a surprise! Bess, how are you? I hope your family is well," his face, chapped and red from the cold, expressed his delight.

"Matthew Dillon, it's so good to see you! I was overjoyed when I heard that you and Kitty had bought this place and decided to settle down." Her plump cheeks turned pink with delight. Mrs. Roniger had recently returned to Kansas after spending time near Chicago. One of her daughters had had a difficult delivery and sickly infant, and, of course, she'd gone to help out.

"Thank you, Bess. How about you and Will come over for supper sometime? We'd love to have you," Matt said.

"That's just what we've been discussing. That, and how happy that I am to see her, too," Kitty said. Her cheeks were also colored with pleasure at seeing her old friend after so long. "I'd love see the children again-but they're not children anymore, though, are they?"

Bess beamed, "No, they're not, and a few of them still live close by. A picnic down near that lovely creek of yours would be wonderful this summer. We'd all enjoy that, Kitty. I know one of the children especially who'd like to see you."

"I'd like to see her, too," Kitty said, thinking of a young, feral girl whom she'd met after a terrible accident, and was later was adopted by Bess and Will.

"Well, I hate to rush off just as you got home, Matt," Bess said, as she rose to leave. She was as pleasantly healthy and effervescent as ever. "I promised Will that I'd be prudent with my visiting time. He'll be worried if I'm not back well before dark comes on, especially as cold as it's been."

Kitty picked up a basket beside her chair and held it out for Matt's inspection. It was filled with canned beans, corn, and preserves. "Look at these delicious gifts that she brought us. I can't tell you how much it means to see you, Bess, and thank you so much."

Mrs. Roniger pulled Kitty into a tight hug. "Honey, I am so happy you're finally back home for good. I can't wait to meet that daughter of yours. Life around here just wasn't the same without you."

Walking her out, Matt helped her climb onto the seat of her light sleigh. When she situated herself and tucked a large quilt over her lap and legs, Bess looked down at the weathered face of the former lawman. "It fills my heart with joy to see you two finally settled down together right where you belong. And having your daughter—with both of you." Her eyes grew moist with emotion. "I want you to know something; I'm proud of you, Matthew Dillon. And Doc Adams would be, too."

She slapped the reins against her horse, moving toward home.

Matt watched her until she was out of sight, musing about what she'd said. Doc had told him more times than he could count that he needed to settle down with Kitty. The old doctor was especially loquacious about it when he'd had a snootful and it was only the two of them. Matt had always ignored him, or parried back with, "If you like marriage so much, why don't you do it." Oh, but he'd listened to the old man. He had loved him like a friend and a father. He sincerely hoped that somehow Doc knew that finally he and Kitty had a home and family now.

Standing still, the cold sank deeply into his joints. Matt reentered the house and was immediately enveloped with warmth and the smells of home. He stood silently watching his wife putting their lunch on the table and was amazed at how full his heart felt.

"Hungry," Kitty asked, feeling his eyes on her.

"Starved, actually," he answered her, smiling. He used the warm water Kitty had poured into an old basin, on a wash table near the kitchen door, to clean his face and hands. He rehung the old towel left there for him.

"Coffee or water first," she asked.

"Water," he answered, pouring it himself from the pitcher on the table. He drank two large glassfuls by the time Kitty placed his food down, along with her own.

"What's wrong," she asked, after he was halfway finished eating without saying ten words. The deep V wrinkle between his eyes was evidence of his concentration. She peered at him over the top of her coffee as he stared at her quizzically. "I know something's wrong, so out with it."

Matt didn't know whether to be thankful or to curse her ability to read him. He turned his chair to the side so he could look straight at her.

"I haven't had a chance yet," he commented, with a small smile. "I'm glad that Bess came today. I know it can get lonesome out here." He didn't add especially for a woman, but she understood. She elevated one eyebrow and waited for him to tell her what was still bothering him. Finally, he said, "We found a dead calf down at the creek." He shook his head and wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something vile. "I've not seen anything killed like that in a long time around here."

"Killed how?" The way he said it made Kitty want to rub her hands over her arms as if she had goosebumps. "You don't know what killed it? You couldn't tell by the tracks or bite marks?"

Matt took a long drink of water before answering. He didn't want to lie to Kitty, but he also didn't want to unnecessarily alarm her. He decided on honesty; his wife was a strong woman.

"It was too…. ripped up. I swear it looked like a mountain lion had been at it, but that doesn't seem possible. They're high country animals. The wind and snow, along with the other cows had already wiped out any trace of tracks, so we really couldn't find any sign around where we found it."

"Could you tell when it happened?"

"Damn near impossible with this cold. Maybe a week more or less."

Kitty pushed her plate away and rested her arms on the table top.

"It couldn't have been last night? Maybe that's what kept you up?"

Matt looked into her intelligent, blue eyes that had spellbound him from the beginning. Reaching over, he placed his hand on her arm, squeezed lightly, trying to reassure her. "I don't think so, Kitty. I don't remember anything in particular rousing me."

"It's unnerving." She picked up their plates and placed them into the dish pan. "I don't have to tell you to be careful."

Matt laughed and nearly coughed out coffee he'd been about to swallow.

"What's so funny," she asked, whirling around.

Coughing to clear his throat, her husband got out of his chair and embraced her warmly. He planted a kiss her on her forehead. "No. You don't _have to tell me_ to be careful. I got the message. You'd kill me if I got hurt."

She peered up at him through her lashes and gave him a one-sided smile. "Well, I wouldn't _kill _you, but you'd be very sorry."

Matt pulled her into a sweet, soft kiss. He enjoyed being married, kissing her any time of day, not concealing their relationship out of propriety or fear.

"My, aren't you affectionate today," she said, in a husky voice.

"Would you like to know how affectionate I can be, Mrs. Dillon," he breathed into her ear. He reached down with one hand and squeezed her rear. His loud laugh at her surprised yelp was interrupted by a thunderous pounding on the back door and the sound of Festus calling his name.

"Damnation, he has terrible timing," Matt growled. "Come in, Festus," he called, as he released Kitty.

Festus didn't notice Matt's disappointed expression or Kitty's flushed face. The former deputy removed his hat as he entered the house.

"Festus," she asked warmly, "How about a cup of coffee?"

"No, thank you, Miss Kitty, and I'm plum sorry to interrupt you all's dinner."

"What is it, Festus," Matt asked. "Don't tell me another dead calf?"

"No, it's worser than that. Newly sent that new deputy of his'n out c'here. He wants us to come take a look at something. That Hensley woman, out by Settler's Creek, well, she's dead. Newly says it ain't from no natural causes, either."

Kitty wanted to spear him with sharp blue eyes, telling him without saying it that this was no longer his responsibility. She also knew that Newly wouldn't have sent for the former marshal on a whim, so it must be serious. Instead, his wife's brief smile indicated that she understood.

Matt placed his warm, heavy hand on Kitty's shoulder. "I'll be back for supper. If not, I'll send word if I can. Tate and Ash will be checking the herd, and Grady will be working around the barn. I'll tell him to check in case you need something. Til then, I'd _prefer_ you stay inside or near the house?"

Before he stepped out the back door, Matt stopped abruptly, looked back at her, and added, "Keep the doors locked."

Kitty's face was serious when she nodded and started to speak. Before she could, he smiled and interrupted, with "Yes, I'll be careful."


	4. Chapter 4

Blood Moon 4

Wind had blown snow into thigh high drifts in places, but it had effectively swept bare some of the flat, higher exposed roads across the prairie. The sun's reflection off the snow was nearly blinding, so Matt and Festus pulled their hat brims down to help shield their eyes. Fortunately, they only had to give their horses free rein to follow Deputy Joe Ames' horse to the Hensley place.

Matt barely remembered the Hensley couple because they'd moved there around the same time that he was getting ready to put in for retirement. As he recollected, the house and land hadn't been much to begin with, and, as the dilapidated house came into sight, he saw that little appeared to changed. He noticed Newly's bay was tied up outside.

Deputy Ames hadn't said much on their ride back to the Hensley farm. Matt figured that if it was bad enough for the marshal to send for him, then it was just as well that the deputy kept his thoughts to himself. Matt could make his own judgments. They'd kept kerchiefs and scarves pulled up around their necks and faces to protect themselves from the frigid air. The only thing that Ames had told them was that Newly needed his 'professional' opinion and that he'd 'understand once they got there.'

The three riders came around the front of the house to find Marshal Newly O'Brien sitting on the ramshackle porch.

"What in tarnation are ya doin' setting out c'here fer, Newly. It'd be a heap warmer if you 'ad lit a fire in the stove and stayed inside," Festus exclaimed, his boots crunched into the snow, after he'd tied off his mule.

Newly looked up as they approached. "Trust me, Festus, when you see what's in there, you'll understand why I didn't want to stay inside any longer than I had to."

Matt waited, looked expectantly at his friend. When no answer was forthcoming, the old marshal narrowed his eyes, and growled, "That bad?"

Newly only nodded.

"Was the door open when you got here," Matt asked, taking note of the scene.

"No. I did that. Ed and Martha Washburn were on their way into Dodge, and Martha insisted they do a welfare check on Miz Hensley, I guess, when they noticed there was no smoke from the chimney. When they got here," Newly stood and gestured toward a broken window, to the right of the door, "They found this and looked inside and saw the body. Mr. Washburn said it was pretty obvious that she was dead, so they didn't go in. They came on into town and reported it to me. Trust me, they were pretty shook up.

"Ames and I came out and found the door locked from the inside. It appears that whoever or whatever it was that killed her, either came in through the window or through the side of the house."

Matt was stunned. "The side of the house? What are you talking about?"

"Come this way." Newly led them around to the back where, partially hidden by a chicken pen, a ragged wooden hole had been ripped through the wall to inside the house.

Matt waded through the deep snow to the opening and studied the scene without entering. There wasn't much furniture, a couple of straight back chairs, a broken rocker, and a bed that had seen better days. He took note of the blood on the inside of the front window and how the glass appeared to have broken inward.

Once he squeezed through the opening, into the house, Matt knelt down to get a better look at the body, careful not to kneel in blood. Mrs. Hensley was lying partially under the bed. Dried, or rather frozen, blood was copious. He heard Festus and Newly scramble in behind him. Apparently, Deputy Ames had seen enough the first time and didn't follow them inside again.

"There's blood all over this back wall. Maybe that's spray from her neck bein' ripped open. Her face, though-I've never seen anything like that in my life. It's like somebody took a knife and just cut or beat her until it was impossible to tell who she was," Newly said.

Matt picked up an old shotgun and broke it open; there were bloody handprints on the stock. There was no shell inside. Looking around, he spotted one under the rocker and one near the front door. He bent down to pick up one that had rolled under the table and suddenly startled, dropping it on the floor.

"Sorry. I thought it was another shell. It's one of her fingers."

"I don't blame you!" Newly continued, "I found one spent shell. I guess she might have gotten him with her one shot."

Matt said, "Or maybe not." He indicated the pellets buried in the wood. "I don't think she wounded her attacker. If she only got off one shot and most of it's here in the door."

"Has the doctor been out yet?" Matt didn't particularly care for the man, but he hadn't liked any physician since Doc Adams had passed on. Still, the town doctor had a purpose, and he could take examine the body and give them more to go on.

"No, I didn't really know what we'd find. Certainly not…._ this_. I figured the Washburn's had gotten excited and exaggerated. I was wrong," Newly kept staring at the dead woman. "I figure we can load the body into the wagon. It's not like it's going to affect much. It's too damn cold. No sense in draggin' the doctor out here in this."

Matt turned to Festus. "I'd appreciate your going back to the Double S and staying with Kitty until I get home. I'll help Newly get the body loaded for town then I'll head for home."

Festus looked a tad green around the gills. "Will do, Matthew." Stopping to look back at the dead woman, he said something that made Matt's blood turn to ice because it had been playing in the back of his mind as well. "It looks pert near exactly like what happened to that calf we found. All ripped up like that."

"Yea, but we thought that looked more like an animal attack."

Newly asked, "What calf?"

"Me and Matthew found a calf that had been kilt a few days ago, maybe a week, down near the creek below the ranch house. It was all tore up like this. Well, more like ripped up." He turned away from the dead body. He waved his hands in the air when he asked, "Newly, how in the sam hill can you even tell if this is this here Miz Hensley. You cain't tell from looking at her, that's fer shore."

"Well, Festus, I don't know who else it could be, but I'm hoping the doctor can help us with that, too."

"All righty, Matthew, I'll see you later at the ranch."

"Will do. Oh, and Festus, don't tell Kitty anything yet about…." He trailed off.

"Don't you worry. I'll just sketch out the big picture to Miss Kitty about this here."

***********************************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**********************.

Deputy Ames went to the Hensley's dilapidated barn and led an old mare to battered, old wagon that would now carry the body of its owner into Dodge City. Matt and Newly had wrapped the body in the bedclothes and tied them tightly around the corpse. Once the horse was hitched, the two placed the body respectfully into the back of the wagon.

"I'll leave you to it, Newly," Matt said, as he hitched up his pants in front. "I sure don't envy you trying to figure this one out. Not that any of them are good."

Newly stuck out his hand. "Thank you, Matt. I hated to take you from your work, but I think you understand now." He shook his head. "I'm not ashamed to say that this is the most awful thing I've ever seen."

"It won't make you feel any better, but I have to say that it ranks right up there as one of the worst things that I've ever witnessed."

The former lawman turned to undo his horse's reins from the decaying hitching post. "You're welcome. You know I'm willing to help out with whatever you need. I know Kitty would enjoy seeing you, so how about you come out in a few days for supper, say Sunday."

"That's five days. That's about how long it will take my stomach to settle. I'll see you then. Much obliged."


	5. Chapter 5

ha

Blood Moon 5

"The sheer rage and physicality involved in an attack and subsequent murder like this are enormous," Dr. Carter stated, as he finished washing his hands. Newly watched him as he tried to get every speck of blood from under his nails and off his skin. "The strength needed to do this would indicate that the killer was a man."

Carter was originally from Richmond, Virginia, in his early forties, tall, lanky. Newly liked him and found him intelligent, not afraid to think outside the lines. He also had a dry sense of humor that the marshal appreciated. Ray Carter didn't have the wry sense of humor or wisdom that Galen Adams had possessed; no one could make up for the absence of Doc. He was not only a fine human being and doctor, but part of their Dodge family.

Finally, Carter sat down heavily in a rolling chair, much newer than the creaky one that Doc had used. "Just when I think I have seen the worst that human beings can do to each other, unfortunately, I get another nasty surprise. Damn awful." Reaching into a lower drawer, the doctor pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "I could use a dram after that. You?"

"Yes, please," Newly said, taking the glass of tawny liquid.

For a little bit, the two sat in the quiet room and enjoyed the warmth of the alcohol as it wound its way through their chests.

"I will write all this up for you formally, Newly, but I can give you a summary of injuries."

Newly sat waiting patiently for the doctor to continue. It was nearly one in the morning, and he was exhausted and the whiskey made him that much more tired.

In a gesture reminiscent of Doc Adams, Raymond Carter rubbed his face with one hand, indicating both his fatigue and his desire to erase what he'd seen.

"Newly, that poor woman was cut up by one angry…. bastard." Ray Carter looked down at his preliminary notes. "I know you're pressed for time, so…. here goes.

"Mrs. Hensley suffered from dozens of cuts that would not have caused her immediate death. Painful, yes, but not deadly. She was still alive because there is evidence of bleeding from these wounds. The cut that finally killed her was the one across her carotid. That would have caused ample blood spray around the room which you described. The rest of the butchery was postmortem, meaning after death." The doctor paused, "I'm sorry. I'm tired; I know that you know what post mortem means. Hell, I know you trained to be a doctor before you became out West. I thought I left this type of crime behind me back East, in big cities.

"I can tell you this, Newly, whoever did this, wanted this poor woman to suffer. Her face was destroyed. The occipital orbits were shattered. Nose cut off. Lips destroyed. If I hadn't seen the scar where she fell and cut her hip in an odd crescent shape, I could not have said definitively that it was indeed Deborah Hensley." Carter stopped for a sip of coffee and continued. "The cuts over 95% of her body seemed designed to inflict pain and terrify her but not to kill. They were shallow. I believe that the severing of the fingers was done…. for some type of sport," he said, and as he finished, the doctor rose to get himself a cup of coffee.

"I noticed the mutilation of her hands, Ray. It was getting dark by the time we got the body loaded into the wagon. We did find one finger under the table." Newly laughed. "Actually, Marshal Dillon picked it up thinking it was a shotgun shell. I've never seen him so undone."

Carter laughed picturing the usually composed Matt Dillon shaken. Settling down to a more somber tone, he said, "The rest of the fingers may not have been there."

Newly swallowed hard. "You mean whoever did this could have kept them. As what? Some gruesome trinket?" He shuddered involuntarily.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm not telling you how to do your job, but I would go back out there and have a thorough look around to make sure that you didn't overlook them when you brought the body in. Knowing for sure may give us a more insight into this monster's mind.

"You might also want to ask around and find out if there have been any pets or farm animals that have disappeared or been killed. I doubt this was his first. He had to practice on something."

The last statement stirred Newly to his feet. He needed to know more about the Dillon's' dead calf.

"I know I shouldn't have to ask you to keep this to yourself. Rumors are spreading like wildfire by now, I'm sure. We don't need the grisly details getting out. I instructed my deputy to keep his mouth shut, but this would shake damn near anyone."

"Did Mr. Dillon or Mr. Hagen have any ideas?"

"It was getting late, and we didn't stay to discuss it with darkness coming. He wanted to get home to his wife." Newly paused, then said, "If you don't mind me asking, Ray, how in hell do you know so much about this type of crazy butchery?"

The doctor made a sound that was between a cough and a short laugh. "When I was in Philadelphia working at a university hospital, there were a few who discussed the pathology and psychology of aberrant behavior. Have you ever heard of Jack the Ripper? Let's just say that he was not the first to murder, but his behavior and technique was the most notorious we studied."

"They never caught him, did they," Newly asked.

"Not that I've heard." Doctor Carter stared out the window onto the street below, his face a stiffened mask.

Newly put his hat on and gripped the door knob. As he jerked it open, he turned and gave the doctor a steely look, and said, "You can bank on this, Ray, I fully intend to capture this son-of-a-bitch."

*******************************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX******************.

Kitty had noticed Matt's subdued demeanor, but God bless her, she understood that sometimes he needed to study on things before he could put into words what was bothering him.

She invited Festus to stay for supper, and he was only too obliging. Matt was relieved because it helped fill the quiet. He didn't want the ugliness and vile nature of what they had seen brought into their home. Festus understood and kept the conversation centered around Lena and their plans for a breed of horses that Kitty and Lena were interested in raising called Missouri Fox trotters. Lena had totally convinced Festus, but she had had him wrapped him around her little finger since the day they met.

Now, after hearing the clock chime strike two, Matt still lay awake, listening to the even breathing of his wife. He pulled Kitty closer, smelled her lemony cream, and tried like hell to push the awful tableau he'd seen far away. Everything about his wife calmed him. The touch of her and having her in his life made his heart flood with nearly painful emotion, feelings that he struggled to put into words. He'd known other men with the ability to say just the right thing and use flowery poetic words to charm women. Kitty had always needed more than flowery phrases; she believed actions over words. He tried to show her his feelings, but still sometimes women liked to hear the words. They were odd like that.

What kind of man, Matt Dillon's mind segued, could torture and kill a woman the way he'd seen today? He didn't believe that men suddenly became killers unless something horrific changed them, and he wasn't sure that a man was born evil. Then again, he remembered back to some of the men he'd arrested or who had killed over trifling things, like photographs. A few brutes who had hurt Kitty, and he'd believed they were damned evil. Unexpectedly, his mind went to the calf that he'd found killed and disfigured and feared that it was connected to the murder. He didn't believe in coincidences like that.

Matt stretched out his long legs in an attempt to relieve his growing tension. He was never going to get to sleep at this rate.

Rolling out of bed for the second night in a row, Matt crept his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. Taking a piece of cornbread, he crumbled it up into the glass. He was halfway through eating it when Kitty sat down across from him at the table.

"We really have to stop meeting like this," she mumbled sleepily.

"I'm sorry, honey. I was peckish."

Kitty rolled eyes. "Do you really think I believe that?"

"Bite?" He offered her the glass and what was left.

"No, thanks. I'd like you to tell me what's bothering you. Like what you found today when you went to meet Newly. I noticed how both you and Festus _oh so carefully_ kept any talk of it away from supper tonight."

Matt kept his eyes on his food. "I don't think so, Kitty. Maybe in the morning when it's light."

"It is morning," she said dryly.

"Yes, I guess it is, but there isn't enough light for what I saw."

He looked across at her and she could read the unease there. She knew he was keeping something from her and a part of her didn't want to know.

"I can't protect myself or know what to expect if you don't tell me, Matt," she said, sounding frustrated.

He rose and placed his empty glass in the dish pan and turned back to his wife. "I know that. Give me time-not tonight, please." Matt kissed her on the forehead and pulled her into his arms.

"I love you."

Kitty looked surprised. "I love you, too."

"Give me some time to wrestle this mess into a manageable size. I know you think you can handle anything, but this isn't a vision I want stuck in your head. Hell, I don't even want it in mine."

Kitty shivered. "That bad?"

She felt him nod his head against hers. "And more. Let's go to bed and get some rest. Soon, I'll explain what I can. I give you my word." He moved back far enough to see her face. "Do you believe me?"

Kitty placed her soft palm against his cheek. "I do. I always believe you, Cowboy."

Their bed was covered with heavy quilts and the mattress was comfortable. Once abed, they eventually fell asleep, curled together, while the remorseless wind blowing from the north jangled the porch swing and caused the trees to creak.

The horses in the barn pushed against stall doors and rolled their eyes. The light from the bright white orb in the sky didn't reach into the dark stalls with earthen floors.

The men who worked on the ranch burrowed into their beds and dreamed the world was a safe and kind place.

{I'd like to thank all of you who have left reviews, especially the detailed ones. I apologize for my mistakes. I'd like to thank the **dedicated Gunsmoke fans **who leave reviews and support fanfiction because without you there wouldn't be any. I also invite the readers overseas (Yes, I see those of you who read in faraway places that I'll probably never get to visit. It makes me feel kinda special to think someone as far away as Greece or Russia is reading my story) to leave messages or reviews; I appreciate you, too. I want to acknowledge that Mother Nature has been hard on us all lately. My heart and prayers are with you, especially farmers and ranchers. I know your pain. We lost two horses this month to a virus, and our fields are deep in mud. We need fertilizer and paint for the barn and the fences-yada yada yada. It never ends on a farm.}


	6. Chapter 6

Blood Moon 6

"No! Stop it! Don't do that anymore," a young woman's voice rang out loudly.

"It was an accident!" The young man laughed uproariously, as he splashed more water.

"That was no accident, John," his sister yelled at him.

Kitty laughed and watched the antics of Bess's youngest children carousing in the water. She said, "I can't wait for Lena to get home. I miss the noise and chaos of having young people around."

"Maybe that's part of the reason that you enjoyed running The Long Branch," Hannah said. "You're a naturally friendly person and love people. Are you sure you don't get lonely way out here away from Dodge?"

"Hannah, I will not come back, so you can stop asking, and it's only twelve miles, as the crow flies," Kitty answered, pretended to be exasperated. "I've got my hands full here keeping up with the registrations and numbers since it's calving season, and Lena will be home in a month. I should have lots of noise and activity in the house then."

"Well, darn, you can't blame a woman for trying. I could use some of your magic with numbers about now" Hannah said in a dejected tone.

Before Kitty could ask her what was wrong, Bess Roniger interrupted them by plonking herself down on a weathered chair to join them.

"The youngsters are having a time out there in the creek. It's just the thing after hard week of planting and rounding up new mama cows and strays," Bess announced. "And, I've been so worried about Caroline. She's been heartbroken over the disappearance of her dog, Birdie. She's had that dog since she was three years old. I told her that her brother Samuel's collie dog has a new litter of puppies and she could have one of those. Nothing could sooth that child's tears."

"I'm so sorry," Kitty said. "It's good to see them having fun and to get a different topic of conversation. Festus has annoyed me to death for a week about rubs and seasoning for that pig! I thought for sure that Matt was going to tie him up and put him on a train to Wichita if he didn't stop talking about it."

"Festus does tend to get carried away when it comes to food," Hannah said knowingly.

"Oh, please, don't remind me of his 'near escape' from the 'clutches of marriage-dom," Kitty said. "To hear him tell it, it was as close a call as his escape from the Comanches fifteen years ago."

The ladies laughed. The gossip about Festus and his widow-woman had made the rounds. Kitty doubted if there was a person in Kansas or Arkansas who hadn't heard of it."

"Speak of the devil," Hannah said, gesturing up the hill where Festus was gesturing and yelling for them to come on and eat.

"I'll leave you ladies to round up the herd because I need to check on my final preparations," Kitty announced and headed up the little rise where Matt and the other men were gathered. She turned abruptly to look at Bess, and asked, "Do you think your son might have an extra puppy?"

Bess smiled. "I'm sure there will be, Kitty. In fact, I'd almost bet on it."

Several tables were set out and loaded down with water and lemonade, even a keg of bear. Corn on the cob, corn bread, biscuits, and green beans were only a few of the bowls of food spread out alongside a pile of plates and cutlery. Kitty took great pride in her skills as a hostess and this one of the first shindigs that she and Matt had thrown that included this many people. The Ronigers and twelve of their children and grandchildren who were available to come; Festus and their three hands, Grady, Tate, and Ash; Dr. Raymond Carter and Hannah. Newly had been invited along with his deputy Toby Ames and his wife Sarah, who was expecting.

Kitty was double checking the number of people compared to seating. Matt and Festus had built some picnic tables, adorned with tablecloths, and placed them in the shade. Quilts also covered the ground for the smaller ones. Her attention was so focused that she didn't hear Matt until he came up behind her and whispered in her ear.

"I think you have outdone yourself, honey, as usual." He gave her a sneaky kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, but you're a little partial to the hostess," she responded drily.

"That I am." Matt enveloped her from behind in his big arms. In a low voice, he asked her, "Are you happy?"

She squeezed his hand and looked up at him with a beaming smile. "Very."

He returned her smile with a grin and yelled, "Let's eat!"

*********************************************************XXXXXXXXXX. M&K

The sky was a brilliant canvas of pink and violet as the last of their visitors packed up their wagons and headed home. The sun was taking its time setting tonight. Hannah was staying overnight, since it was Sunday, and she had closed the saloon. Dr. Carter had been invited to stay, as well, but he had a very expectant mother who lived along his way back to Dodge. The doctor felt he should check-in on his way home. Festus and his boys gladly snatched plates of food that Miss Kitty and Hannah divied out, and then they headed back to check the herds before bedding down for the night.

Matt and Newly assisted the ladies in toting baskets of leftover food and other paraphernalia back up to the house. Once they deposited their burdens inside, they headed to the porch with coffee and privacy. The tops of the trees began to sway in the wind, first in small puffs then sudden hard gusts. It had been an exceptionally warm day for early April and dark clouds were on the horizon, threatening a spring storm. Wind chimes stirred, harbingers of stronger breezes perhaps yet to come.

The warm light from inside the house and the women's voices and laughter drifted out on the evening air. Matt leaned back in one of the willow rockers that he'd handcrafted (he was quite proud of the way they curved to fit a person's back and Kitty insisted she was going to patent it) and took a drink of his coffee.

The rumble of Matt's voice interrupted the silence of the early evening air. "I assume there hasn't been more progress with the Hensley murder?"

"No. Not a damn thing. Though I can't say I'm ungrateful that no more bodies have turned up," New said, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, hat in hand. "I suppose that it could have been someone just passing through, but that doesn't seem to match up with Ray Carter's suppositions about the killer."

Matt peered at him in the fading light. "I must have missed something. Let's go through your time table and then go over what Carter _supposed_."

"There was a mutilated calf here."

"Maybe. Newly we don't know for sure that it was killed by a person. Still could have been an animal," Matt interrupted him.

"Yes, but within a week of that discovery, Miz Hensley is killed. I checked back through my notes and within one month, in an approximate twenty-mile radius around Dodge City, there had been at least five dogs, six cats, and two other calves missing. Completely disappeared. Yours was the only one that was found relatively intact.

"Now, before you say it, Matt, I know that domestic animals go missing and never turn up. Those are just the animals that we found out about by trying to keep a low profile. I have no idea what we may have turned up if we'd posted a notice about missing animals. Maybe nothing but a panic, which is why I chose not to," Newly said, and released a sigh of frustration.

Matt shifted to take pressure off his leg. "What about Carter? What were his final results? And his ideas about this killer?"

"Carter believed that a person like this would have a killing area, until he is stopped. Mrs. Hensley didn't appear to have been…. violated sexually. But Matt her face was just destroyed. That's a lot of anger, so doesn't that indicate a violent man, perhaps a madman."

The old US Marshal was quiet, parsing Newly's information. "Let me study on it. The doctor makes some good points but there are other reasons for destroying someone's identity after death. Even among the Indians. Some tribes feel that it can wipe away the evil in the person."

"Are you saying it could be an Indian? Or that the killer thought that Mrs. Hensley deserved it?"

Matt said, deliberately and with the wisdom of years of law enforcement, "I'm not willing to go out on a limb yet. You have one murder and some missing animals, and a doctor that has a lot of knowledge that he likes to share. Carter may be right, but until we find a pattern that we can document with evidence, it sounds like it is just as likely to be a random stranger killing—no matter how damn awful it was. That's probably not what you want to hear, but I hope that we don't ever have another murder to compare it to."

"It's been two months and nothing else. That's a good thing," Newly said. "I guess I will have to be satisfied not solving one murder if I never have any others like this to investigate. Not a happy trade off, but not bad either."

Kitty pushed opened the screen door and stepped out on the front porch. Matt pulled a chair close to himself and Kitty placed a tray between the four of them. Hannah settled in beside Newly, after she lit the lamps on either side of the exterior door.

"Are we welcome or is this a private conversation," Kitty asked, settling in regardless of the answer.

Newly said, "Miss Kitty, you can throw one heck of a spring fling. The food was delicious and the company was top notch."

"How about I freshen up that coffee and you have a piece of this blackberry pie. It has a perfectly browned crust, if I do say so myself." Kitty cut a piece and the first went to her husband who winked at her. It was his favorite.

Kitty handed two more slices, one to Hannah and one to Newly, when she heard the jangling spurs.

"That surely does look like fine pie there, Miz Kitty," Festus drawled.

She smiled as she handed him a piece, which she'd already cut for him. "Have a seat, Festus, and join us."

"I shorely will. Mmmmm. This here pie is a pure t slice of heaven, Miz Kitty."

"Thank you, Festus. You're certainly welcome."

Kitty reached over to take her husband's arm. "Do you remember back in February when we were snowed in and you said that I could pick myself out a birthday present later?"

Everyone laughed as Matt groaned. "You want a trip to Paris. San Francisco," he asked.

"No, I want a puppy from Bess's son. He has a new litter of collie pups. Now I don't suppose that's too much to ask, is it?"

"No, Mrs. Dillon, it isn't. When will they be ready to leave their mama?"

"I think about two weeks. Bess told me that Caroline's dog had disappeared, and she could have one of these puppies if Birdie hadn't returned by then," Kitty said, then taking a bite of her pie.

Sensing something odd from the sudden quiet, Hannah and Kitty looked at the men and each other.

Newly asked Kitty, "Did she say when the dog disappeared?"

"Not that I recall. Why?"

Newly shrugged. "I'll go by tomorrow. Maybe take a flyer to post. It could turn up."

She smiled at him, "That's very nice; I'm sure Caroline and Bess would appreciate it," she said, pretending not to notice odd expressions on both Matt's and Newly's faces and not buying their story for one minute.


	7. Chapter 7

Blood Moon 7

Clouds continued to move, and not long after Newly left, the lightning became fierce and the downpour began. Spring brought dangerous storms in Kansas. Sometimes they looked downright Biblical rolling across the open prairie with nothing to stop them before they hit you. Kitty always thought the clouds looked like an ocean wave curling back before it slammed into the coast. She remembered such storms in New Orleans and the devastation left in their wake. Kansas had terrible storms like that as well, but they were tornados and not hurricanes. Unfortunately, they were just as deadly.

When she lived in Dodge City proper, she'd experienced such storms, but 'twisters' hadn't ever directly hit the town. She'd seen farms where it had destroyed everything, including the family who had lived there. She didn't have a nervous temperament, generally, but Kitty had a healthy respect for nature.

The pounding of heavy rain on the tin roof was merciless, and she wondered how Hannah could sleep upstairs from the hammering. She flipped back the quilt and gasped as a bright bolt of lightning flashed, followed by a huge clap of thunder.

"That was a close one," she heard Matt say from behind her. "You ok?"

"Can't sleep. I hope most everyone got home before the storm broke," she said. "Poor Newly didn't."

Matt rolled over on his side to look at Kitty perched on the edge of the bed. "'Poor Newly' is tough. He'll be all right. Hey," he said, "turn around. What's wrong?"

Silence was all he got in return.

"Kitty, I know it's a bad storm, but—"

Suddenly she turned around, and said brusquely, "I'm not a mushroom you know! You don't have to keep me in the dark and feed me bull shit. I've heard the rumors about the Hensley murder that you refused to talk to me about. People do talk, you know."

Matt rose and walked to the kitchen, favoring his leg. Damp weather always played hell with the old injury. Hearing his staggered walk made her want to cry. He had suffered so many injuries and aches that it hurt her to remember them. Kitty could hear the sounds of him stoking the stove and then water pouring.

She watched the downpour blow against the windows, lost in thought, and didn't hear him come back into the bedroom.

"Kitty," he said, as he touched her shoulder, and she yelped and jumped.

"This is why I didn't want you to know anything about what had happened." He put his arm around her and as she got to her feet. "Let's have some coffee and talk. Please."

Kitty settled in the rocker, pulled close to the fire to ward off the damp chill in the air. Matt sat on the hearth beside her, coffee in hand.

"Hannah? She's the one who said something to you," he stated, sipping his coffee.

"Don't blame Hannah. She's not the only one," Kitty looked up at him from under her lashes. "I'm sorry that I was short with you. I watched you and Newly and I knew what you were concerned about. Both Hannah and I have heard the rumors about the missing animals, and you two sat there without a clue that half the women in town are afraid to be alone at night."

"Kitty, I'm sorry. I didn't want the ugliness of that in your head or in our home, yet it's wormed its way in here anyway. I let myself get rusty. Living up in the hills must have left me forgetful of how quickly women and old men in town can spread rumors.

"I'll tell you what I know. I want you to stop me if it gets to be too much, I'm warning you that the details aren't going to help you sleep," he said, and the look in his eyes drove his point home.

Matt reached for his wife's hand, which was pale and cool, and he told her what he knew and what might be.

**************************************************************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXM&K.

Newly was miserable. He was mostly dry, thanks to his duster. Unfortunately, cold rain water still managed to find its way between the collar and the back of his hat. The storm didn't look as if it was going to end anytime soon, and the lightning was a little too close for comfort, especially since he was the highest point on the prairie most of the time.

He remembered an abandoned homestead maybe a mile away, but in the opposite direction from Dodge City, nine miles away. His bedroll was tucked up behind his saddle, and dry, covered by his slicker, so he decided to detour.

Newly had ridden for almost an hour and began to worry that he'd either misjudged the distance or the location, when a lightning strike illuminated the one room shack. Thanking God and good luck, he rode into the old pole barn which was attached to the cabin. He unsaddled his horse, apologized to Big Jake for having nothing to feed him, grabbed his gear and dashed for the crumbling house.

The door was surprisingly hard to get open, which irritated him because it left him standing longer than he wanted in the pouring rain. Newly kicked the bottom of the door furiously until it finally moved. Pushing it open enough to get inside, he stumbled and nearly lost his balance in the darkness. Putting his gear down, he fumbled in his bag until he found his flint striker and tinder box. He could see with help of the intermittent flashes and found the fireplace. Reaching around on the floor, Newly grabbed whatever he could that might catch fire and placed them nearby. He struck repeatedly and a spark landed on some old paper, a wad of hair, and dust. The flame flared up brightly, and he carefully nursed it. Newly felt around and found old pieces of furniture. He broke them up into sticks, and, in no time, he had a healthy blaze.

The marshal pulled off his slicker, shook the water off, and hung it on the wall. He tried to check the room out to make sure that he didn't have any unwelcome roommates to surprise him during the night. It was getting warmer and the last thing he needed was a rattler crawling in with him to get warm. He shuddered.

The fire was eagerly consuming what little fuel he'd found; at least the old chimney could still draw well. Banking the fire as best he could with what he had, newly spread out his bedroll, covered himself and fell asleep almost instantly, thankful that he and Jake had found a dry place to hole up for the night.

*******************************************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXM&K.

While Matt was telling her about finding Deborah Hensley, Kitty was unusually quiet. When he finished, she went to the kitchen and washed her face with cool water.

"You're right," she said, "that was bad. But I'd rather know the truth than hear all sorts of wild tales that are just as frightening."

"Yeah, well, I should have told you and not acted like I knew what was for the best," he said, and looked down shyly. "It took us a long time and a lot of heartache to get to this point in our lives. I want to protect it—you, Lena, our family. I know I can't keep everything evil away, but I wish I could."

"Oh, Matt," Kitty whispered, dropping to her knees beside him and wrapping her arms around him. "If anyone in the world could protect us, it would be you. Thank you for telling me, and thank you for trying to spare me."

Thunder literally shook the house making both of them look up as if they thought the roof was coming down.

With a wry grin, Kitty said, "If that doesn't wake up Hannah, she just takes the prize for sleeping like the dead!"

Matt laughed and pulled his wife to her feet. "Are you hungry," he asked.

"After all that food? No. But let me guess…. you'd like some blackberry pie?" She raised an eyebrow when she asked.

"If you're going to force it on me, I guess I'll have a piece," he teased.

Rolling her eyes, she trailed her hungry husband to the kitchen.

************************XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxx.

When Newly woke, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Grumpy because he was stiff and damp, he was ready for breakfast at Delmonico's. He noticed the fire was completely out as he gathered up his blanket and saddle. On his way out, he noticed something odd in a back corner. A new shovel.

Dropping his rig, he walked over to check it out and stubbed his toe, almost going down on the dusty floor. Newly went to the door and opened it to let in as much light as he could. Making his way back to where he saw the shovel, he got down on his hands and knees. There was a rise in the floor where a few boards had been added over the original floor. It looked like a raised cellar door, but it had a lock on it.

Taking the shovel, Newly busted off the lock. Using both hands he lifted it up, and the overwhelmingly putrid stench of rotting meat made him drop it quickly.

As he stumbled outside gasping for fresh air, he realized that he'd most likely found the killer's hidey hole.


End file.
